


Good things come for boys who wait

by lanyon



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Kent Parson gets the last word, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent attends a wedding. It's not his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good things come for boys who wait

**Author's Note:**

> +Title from Christina Aguilera because I have no shame.  
> +This is a direct follow on from _Bad Boy Boogie_ which doesn't quite fit into the forthcoming sequel. It's also part of my solemn vow to ensure that Kent Parson is, occasionally, happy.

Spotted: Kent Parson, Captain of the Las Vegas Aces, was seen in Montreal with his family earlier this week. Parson is in town to attend the wedding of former Aces teammate, Sven Bergsen, and this is where it gets complicated. He’s marrying Aurelie Charbonneau, whose brother is ex-Ace and Parse’s BFF, Gabriel Charbonneau. Their half-brother is current Vegas D-man, Max Charbonneau. 

Bergsen only played for one season at the Battledrome but he was popular amongst his teammates. A strong Aces presence is expected at the wedding, which will be held in rural Quebec this weekend.

*

Bergy is nearly a foot taller than Aurelie but they fit together beautifully; their first dance is to _She_ , in the candelit courtyard. It’s dusk and it’s perfect and there are lights strung along the walls and Kent can see Charbo, across the dancefloor. Charbo is standing with his mother and they’re both smiling as they watch Aurelie and Bergy. 

“Are you next, dear?” 

Kent jumps. “Uhm,” he says. “Ah.” He has no idea how to respond to Charbo’s great-aunt, who may Eloise or she may be Hélène. They’re ninety-five year-old twins who own the vineyard and Kent has no idea where they fall on the spectrum of acceptance.

“It’s so wonderful to see Gabriel looking so happy,” she says, patting his hand. “You be sure and make an honest boy out of him while Eloise and I are still here to see it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Kent and he looks over at Gabriel again and he sucks in a breath at the realisation that that’s where this is headed; a slow dance, surrounded by their family and friends. 

“I don’t know what this expression is,” says his mother, gesturing at his face. “But it’s adorable. If only I had a means of preserving this for posterity.” 

“You have a camera on your phone, Mom,” says Katie, helpfully. 

“I am _so_ glad we encouraged you and your sister to go to school. You’ve got the smarts. Kent, put your arm around your sister and continue looking smitten. Perfect.” Kent’s mother snaps a photograph and holds her phone at arm’s length, examining the photograph. “Well, I’ve worked with better, but not many.”

“Any more pictures and you’ll have to go through my agent,” says Katie, linking arms with Kent. She elbows him. “I don’t have an agent. Can I use yours?”

Kent’s still laughing when Charbo comes over, ducking his head a little bashfully. “Hi, Kent.”

“Hi, darlin’,” says Kent. 

“Hey, Katie. Wanna dance?” Gabriel holds out his hand and Katie, with the solemnity that only a fourteen year-old can muster, takes it. He leads her out to the dancefloor and glances over his shoulder to grin at Kent.

“I don’t want to speak out of turn,” says Kent’s dad, appearing out of nowhere with a glass of wine in his hand. “But you need to lock that shit down.”

“You’re not the first person to say that to me tonight,” says Kent. He watches as Kristen joins in on the dancefloor. Kent thinks this might be a family affliction, as both of his twin sisters beam up at Gabriel as he twirls them about.

*

“You’ve danced with every single one of my relatives—”

“I haven’t danced with your dad—”

“And every single one of your relatives—”

“To be fair, Aunt Eloise can’t really get around so I’m not sure I’d call that a _dance_ —”

“And every single one of Bergy’s relatives—”

“I feel like you’re going somewhere with this—”

“Charbo,” says Kent. It comes out perilously close to a whine. “I want to dance with you.”

It’s ridiculous how it lights up Kent’s whole world to see Charbo smile. He can feel it in the base of his spine, like a rising heat. Charbo reaches out and tugs Kent towards him and Kent pretends to drag his feet. 

“I mean, don’t feel obliged or anything—”

“Kent?”

“Yes?”

“There’s no one else I’d rather dance with than you.”

Kent smiles and lets Charbo pull him closer until he’s pressed up against Charbo’s broad chest. He drapes his arms over Charbo’s shoulders. By now, Charbo has lost his suit jacket and his tie, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt are open and there’s just a hint of sweat at the base of his throat. Kent wants to press his nose to the skin there, and breathe Charbo in, but instead, he touches his cheek to Charbo’s and closes his eyes. 

He wishes it could always be like this, touching his lips to the angle of Charbo’s jaw where there’s not even a hint of his usual stubble. Kent knows that there are people watching them and there is nothing anonymous about slow-dancing in a dimly lit courtyard during a summer wedding in Quebec but this is family, and these are friends, and there are no expectations here. He’s not the face of American hockey. He’s just a guy, dancing with another guy, wondering what the acceptable level of groping might be, given there are children and elderly relatives in the vicinity. 

“Kent,” says Charbo softly. “I love you very much but if you feel me up in front of my great-aunts, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

Kent feels a puff of air as Charbo laughs against his cheek and he pulls Charbo tighter against him. “Spoilsport.” 

Charbo touches his lips to the corner of Kent’s mouth and Kent chases after him for a proper kiss and even though it’s soft and chaste, it’s enough to make Jeff wolf-whistle as he dances past with Charlene.

“Can we swap?” asks Charlene and Kent shrugs and before he knows it, Jeff is whisking him around the floor while Charbo and Charlene continue at a more sedate pace. 

“So,” says Jeff. “Weddings are awesome. Charlene and I reckon we should get on that, you know? You cool to be best man?” 

Kent blinks up at Jeff. “Fuck,” he says. He’s been more eloquent in his time. “Uh, I mean. Totally, Jay. Shit.” 

“Sweet,” says Jeff. “So, when are you gonna let Charbo make an honest man of you?”

Kent can only laugh. “The only person who hasn’t asked me that this evening is Charbo.” He doesn’t actually mind, is the thing. He likes knowing that people look at him and Charbo and see something permanent. He sighs, softly. “I should,” he starts. “I should come out. Like. To more than you guys and our families.” 

It makes no sense that he should feel vaguely sick at the thought of it. He loves Charbo and he’s going to spend the rest of his life with him, even if they’re playing for different teams, in different conferences. He’s going to spend the rest of his life with him, once they get there.

“Mind if I cut back in?” Charbo’s smiling up at Jeff and Kent’s about to reach for him when Charlene steps into Kent’s arms and Jeff’s spinning Charbo away, to the amusement of nearby wedding guests.

“So, did Jeff ask you?” 

“Yeah,” says Kent. “I’m f- I”m delighted for you both.”

“And does that weekend work for you?” 

“Wait,” says Kent. “You guys have set a date?” 

Charlene laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, right. He kind of left the important part out, huh? Yeah, it’s two weekends before training camp. My parents are coming over for a month so we figured we’d get everyone together and have a little wedding.” 

“Elvis impersonator?”

“Yeah, absolutely not.” 

“I’m really happy for you guys,” says Kent. He kisses Charlene’s forehead and she squeezes him a bit tighter. 

“We’re happy for you too, you know that, right?” 

“Thanks,” says Kent, quietly, as though he never spent evenings on Jeff’s couch in the aftermath of Charbo’s trade, wretched and lonely. “It’s good to spend time with him.” 

“He’s pretty great,” says Charlene and maybe everyone here is a little biased but Charlene and Jeff probably win some kind of prize, for naming their daughter after Charbo. 

“Yeah,” says Kent. “I’m quite fond.”

*

Kent backs Charbo towards the bed. They’re in an attic room, tucked away in the corner of the hotel that’s attached to the vineyard, and the ceilings are sloped and the bed is four-poster and Kent needs to get his mouth and his hands on Charbo now. 

Charbo’s fingers tighten on Kent’s shoulders and he reels him in for a long kiss, the sort that they couldn’t really enjoy in public. Well, Kent thinks he’d have enjoyed it but he’d never have been able to look at his family again. It’s the sort of kiss that means he wants to devour Charbo, every little bit, and it’s filthy and it’s fond and it makes Kent feel like they can never be apart again. 

They fumble with each other’s clothes, peeling off dress shirts and kicking off shoes and socks and reaching for belts, laughing into each other’s mouths. Kent gasps as Charbo’s hands, broad with callused fingertips and a slightly off-kilter left index finger from a fight with a DC-based trouble-maker, curve down over his ass, hauling Kent closer still. 

“You’re so hot,” Charbo murmurs against Kent’s ear as he turns them around so that Kent's back is to the bed. 

“For you,” says Kent, trying to leer and failing miserably as Charbo pushes down Kent’s pants and it’s all Kent can do to keep his breath.

“Oh my god, you went commando to my sister’s wedding?” 

“I can’t be - ah! - tamed,” says Kent and Charbo’s dropping to his knees. It’s instinct and impulse that guide Kent to drop his hands to Charbo’s hair, tugging lightly on his curls, just the way Charbo likes. Kent’s knees are weak and Charbo hasn’t even gotten his mouth on Kent yet. He relents, just a little, mouthing along the crease at the top of Kent’s thigh. 

“Sit down,” whispers Charbo, somewhere near Kent’s dick, and Kent sits down heavily on the bed behind him. His fingers dig into the satiny bedspread as Charbo tilts his head to the side and licks his lips. 

“Charbo,” says Kent, and he’s whimpering now. “ _Charbo_ , for the love of _ohhhh_ —”

Charbo’s really exceptional at making Kent’s brain stop functioning. All he knows right now is Charbo’s hot mouth, and Charbo’s fingers, stroking Kent’s balls. Kent’s legs part even wider and Charbo reaches up with one hand, pushing at Kent’s chest to make him lie back. He hooks one of Kent’s legs over his shoulder and all Kent can see, as he looks down the line of his own body, are his abs trembling and his cock disappearing into Charbo’s mouth, half-obscured by the fall of Charbo’s curls which have, by now, defeated any earlier attempts by the wedding stylist to tame them. 

Kent digs his heel into Charbo’s back and his whole body arches up, his hips jerking towards Charbo. 

He forces his eyes open, unsure of when he had closed them, to see Charbo slide a finger into his own mouth, alongside Kent’s dick and Kent lets out a high, keening moan, which trails into breathy noiselessness, as Charbo moves that finger to circle Kent’s hole, before he slides it in and it’s only just slick enough and it’s everything and it’s too much. 

Kent comes to fireworks behind his eyelids and, when the room stops spinning and he regains some grasp of who and where he is, Charbo is beside him, petting his stomach and placing soft kisses on his shoulder. 

“So,” says Kent, turning towards Charbo and reaching down to wrap his hand around Charbo’s cock. He swallows. He probably shouldn’t propose when he’s just come his brains out. “Wanna fuck me?”

Charbo smiles, a little sleepily and so trusting, and Kent’s heart pounds and he’s straining for a kiss even as Charbo rolls him over, so that Kent’s facing away from him. Charbo trails his fingers down Kent’s side and kisses the corner of Kent’s mouth which isn’t nearly enough but it still makes Kent lose his breath. The bed rises and dips as Charbo gets up, digging around in their bags for lube. When Charbo gets back onto the bed, he nudges Kent’s leg up and, with slick fingers, starts teasing him and Kent is so sensitive now that it’s almost too much when Charbo slides his fingers in, stretching him with devastating slowness. There are sparks, again, and Kent’s breath sounds harsh, every pant a _yes_ or a _please_ , and Charbo’s mouth is against the back of Kent’s neck. 

“Will you come again?” asks Charbo, moving so that they’re cheek to cheek. He pushes Kent’s thigh up even further, so it’s pressed up against Kent’s belly, and then he slides in, slides home, and Kent feels so full, and Charbo’s hand is around Kent’s cock, which has valiantly gotten with the programme. “I want you to come again, sweetheart.”

Charbo’s thrusts are molasses-slow and deep. The bed creaks rhythmically. Kent turns his head as much as he can until he and Charbo are half-kissing, half-gasping into each other’s mouths and Kent is definitely going to come again. Charbo moves them both, somehow not slipping out of Kent completely, dragging Kent up onto his knees and Kent wraps both hands around one of the bed posts as Charbo’s hips piston faster and harder. One of Charbo’s arms is wrapped around Kent, his fingers splayed out over Kent’s heart, and his other hand is pumping Kent’s cock relentlessly, until Kent tips his head back and moans as he comes, and Charbo comes too, holding Kent still as his whole body seems to spasm. 

Slowly, Kent peels his fingers off the bed post and they both hiss as Charbo pulls out. It takes longer than it should, using the bathroom and arranging themselves in bed, and they could clean up better than they do but Kent likes how it feels, to have Charbo’s come sticky on his inner thighs. 

Kent hasn’t been to many weddings but he thinks this might be the best, yet. He falls asleep with his head on Charbo’s pillow, their breath mingling and their fingers tangled together on Kent’s hip. 

He doesn’t have time to mourn how much he’ll miss this during the season before he’s asleep.

*

More Wedding Bells: This week in Las Vegas, Aces’ star forward, Jeff Forrester, married his long-term girlfriend, Charlene Lui. They were joined by their families and their six month-old daughter, Jennifer Gabriela. Also in attendance were Aces, past and present, and some of Forrester’s Team USA teammates. 

Kent Parson was best man and, though no one’s saying who caught the bouquet, we have to ask: will Parse be next? 

*

 **SC2016** @acesgrrl  
why are they always so thirsty for parse gossip? maybe he'll never get married. 

**battleborn** @battlebornhockey  
@acesgrrl maybe he's a modern man who thinks marriage is an outdated institution.

 **fight me** @hellsqueen  
@acesgrrl @battlebornhockey lbr he'll end up at graceland wedding chapel marrying tater or someone.

 **battleborn** @battlebornhockey  
@hellsqueen @acesgrrl I SUDDENLY SHIP IT do they even know each other

 **SC2016** @acesgrrl  
@battlebornhockey @hellsqueen omg haven't you SEEN the pics from last year's all-star game? 

**SC2016** @acesgrrl  
@battlebornhockey @hellsqueen speaking of thirsty :/ suddenly i am what i hate. SORRY U GUYS.

*

Kent's a little tired. Training camp is always exhausting, on pretty much every level, but especially these pressers. 

"So, Parse," says one of the beats. "How do you think your preparation for the forthcoming season has gone?" 

He leans in and taps the microphone. "Sorry, yeah." He flashes a grin at the assembled media and adjusts his snapback. "It's been a good summer. Definitely a productive summer. We're ready to compete again this year, for sure."

"You trained with Gabriel Charbonneau again this summer, despite his trade to Montreal. How did that go for you both?"

"Don't worry, I didn't tell him about our power play." Kent's grin widens as some of the journalists laugh. "And, yeah, don't worry. He didn't go easy on me."


End file.
